Ten Faced
by Natagarasu
Summary: What happens when you listen to Vocaloid on repeat very late at night? Inspiration for fanfiction, what else! Rating and genre are subject to change. OH, and this is a crack ship, I think...? DOUBLE OH - gonna just say it's AU just in case. (I suck at summaries, I'm a noob, I know! xD) Feel free to review. Also I apologize in advance, I'm bad, I know. w
1. Prologue - The first me

WOO. Hey everyone, Natagarasu here! .w./ Just a little Author's Note before we begin, just to add to the summary... yeah. Wait, what to say? OH. Yeah. If you spot any problems, make sure to tell me! Also, if I stop updating, I guess... if you want more of this, for some reason, just poke me. So... um... yeah. Just... go do the thing!

(O)

I sat in one of the big-shot meeting rooms, walls coloured an obnoxious purple, velvet curtains hugging huge windows to conceal the room in moody light. Either side of me were the higher ups of Worldwide Studios, talking among themselves for the big plans they had for the Nickel Samurai. The scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air, hanging over my head like misty lights. While they simply spoke among themselves, I lent back in my chair, playing with the watch phone I had, waiting for something. What something? Something interesting, maybe even exciting... Or just a something that could concern me and not my career. No matter how loud I spoke, it's like I was invisible. The only person who seemed to pay me any mind was Adrian, but even then, she was almost acting like I was just an item, a source of income. I guess it runs in the blood, from mentor to protégée.

When I stepped out of the meeting that day, I walked back to my house as I always did, locked the door, once that was done I just stared at the wooden rectangle, eyes stinging slightly. In a sudden fit of rage, I suppose, I slammed my fist against it, and turned, sliding down with my back right up against the door. I didn't know what had overcome me, I really didn't… but I couldn't stop myself from letting small trickles roll down my cheeks as I held my head in my hands, feeling a small ball of fur brush up against my leg with a soft meow. I glanced up from my sorry state, smiling as I called Shoe over, the tabby cat brushing his head against my wrist, purring gently.  
"...You need attention too, huh?" I muttered, laughing to myself as I stood to my feet, stretching and wiping away the last of my tears, walking over to the kitchen. "Either that or you're just hungry. That's probably it. Right, Shoe?" The cat simply replied with a meow as he hopped up onto the counter.

I had been home an hour or so, probably no more, and was just fixing something inside the microwave when there was a knock on the door. I thought to myself who that could possibly be when I walked over and answered, eyes widening at the first thing I saw - a blue jacket and a limp stem. "...Corada?"  
"Engarde." Juan folded his arms and turned to face me fully, looking rather annoyed. I just stared at him blankly, or at least, I think I did. "I heard loud noises. I moved in last week, 'member? Next door?" Ah, that was true. He was living just to the left, the walls of these houses were thin, as I recalled. "Oh, and…" He pointed to the dent in the door. ...I didn't realize the wood was that frail.  
"Oh… that? It was nothing, don't worry. "  
"I wasn't going to. Just making sure you weren't killing anyone." He seemed to scowl slightly, huffing before walking away, speaking as he did. "Guess I'll… see you around."  
"Yeah…" I called after him, before shutting the door.

We'd been friends since childhood, you know. You never would have guessed with all the publicity surrounding our 'undeniable rivalry'. But it was more a case of… clinging to nostalgia. I just did whatever he did. He was the one that got me into acting. I wanted to join him at Global… but the company turned me down, and I had to go to Worldwide, only adding to the story. ...I guess you can't escape the press, not really. They'll just do whatever they can to ruin you. I don't know why they take such pleasure in turning a person to rubble, breaking down their infrastructure like an emotionally tormenting earthquake. Maybe that's not their intention, but… it sure feels like it. But that's beside the point. Me and Juan Corada… we used to be like twins. That's what I remember. We did everything together, inseparable. We grew up together, even defended each other and picked each other up when we felt down. But… he changed, for some reason I never knew why. And everything I tried to do made it worse, even trying to tell him about that manager, Celeste Inpax, only lead to more conflict between us. I just don't know what went wrong. But I want to fix it, no doubt or reason to.

That's why I came to the conclusion it was… me. Myself. Me, myself, and I. The way I was. Lost and confused, the guy who was only noticed for his face and nothing more. I decided to change that. Change it until I found a thing that stuck. Yes… Matt Engarde, starting tomorrow, would be a whole new man. And maybe I could fix what was once broken, who knows. That was the intention, anyways.

...It started out with a me that was seen but never heard.


	2. Chapter 1 - The Asshole Me

Chapter 1

A/N: WOOH. I did it. ^^; I'm really hoping I got this right, really looking forward to writing the next few chapters. In case you did get this, I'm going to switch perspectives every few chapters maybe possibly depending on the situation. This one is the perspective of Adrian Andrews, Matt's manager, of course! So... without further ado, please enjoy!~

The day of the business meeting was… a strange one.

Mr. Engarde and I arrived promptly, at the producer's request. I held the door open as I always did for him, and instead of a quiet and polite thank you, which he normally gave me for the subtle act of kindness that I had found would get you far in a normal and respectable society, he didn't pay me so much a glance. Confused and slightly agitated, I shook my head slightly once he passed to shake away the unprofessionalism, and simply followed him into the big main office that belonged the aforementioned producer. He had already helped himself to a seat when I entered, shutting the door with a graceful kind of haste, nodding a greeting to the rat faced man sat in the big cushy chair. I then concerned myself with taking a seat beside the star that looked unusually bored, idly glancing to the various awards and plaques hung up against the wall with a dull expression.

"Now, we were discussing the fate of the show yesterday, as you probably heard." The producer began, leaning back, pressing his fingers against one another, his expression maintaining professionalism. "And we have some big plans in store for you, Mr. Engarde."

He glanced over briefly, before grunting and looking away again. He seemed… uninterested, to put it bluntly. So I remained focused on his behalf, nodding for him as the producer explained what the scriptwriters had been working on. He'd given up interacting with Mr. Engarde, who remained distant, and instead spoke to me about them.

"We entrust all of his affairs to you, Ms. Andrews. We know you will do a wonderful job, you always do."

"Of course, sir. I will not disappoint." I commented, before snapping my notebook shut and standing to my feet, turning to the star. "Come along, Mr. Engarde. There's much to be done."

And he just stared at me blankly.

Engarde groaned slightly before bringing himself up to his feet and rubbing his eyes with the back of his knuckles, not even attempting to hide the yawn that escaped him, nor the rude comment that followed. "So he's finally shut up, huh? I would have brought a sleeping back if I'd have known he was going to talk for so long."

The producer looked shocked and taken aback, as did I, as we exchanged confused glances and looked as mr. Engarde looked to the both of us, confused, but perhaps not for the same reason. "...What? I was being honest. He's the equivalent to a bedtime story, isn't he? Or a horribly out of tune lullaby." He smirked slightly, his cocky, lopsided grin only growing and I pushed up my glasses and scowled at him.

"Mr Engarde-!" I began, before he even dared to approach me and hold a finger to my lips, causing me to flinch.

"Shhh… Adrian, please." I cringed as he referred to me on a first-name basis, my name rolling off his tongue to smoothly yet sounding so sour in my ears. "It's OK to agree with me. Don't be this asshole's puppet like everyone else." He then looked up to the producer, who only wore a mortified expression in response to his words, uttering incoherent words in protest as he tried to collect himself. "And you." Matt began, walking forwards slowly, almost dangerously, and slamming his hands down on the large mahogany desk, fingers twitching as his palms hit the chocolate brown, shiny surface. "You can take this role, this studio, this desk even, and shove them up your ass. I've dealt with your crap for long enough." And he even smirked again, before pushing away and wandering out, hands in his pockets.

"Wait, Mr. Engarde!" The producer called, but we just witnessed him sticking his middle finger up at him before he turned a corner.

"I-I'm so sorry, let me-"

"Ms. Andrews… leave him be… if he wants to leave, let him leave… he won't survive for long out there…"

 _2\. The asshole me_


End file.
